


Truth Part 6

by The_Word_Witch



Series: Truth [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Avengers Tower, Bucky Barnes - Freeform, Bucky Barnes After Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes Feels, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, F/M, POV Bucky Barnes, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Protective Bucky Barnes, The Avengers - Freeform, The Winter Soldier - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 23:46:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17375456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Word_Witch/pseuds/The_Word_Witch
Summary: Request:What’s up sug! sorry you’re struggling right now but I’ve come to help you If you could bring this to light for me I’d absolutely love for YOU TO DO JT So basically Bucky X Enhanced reader who are fuckin enemies. Hate each other to every last fiber of their beings bc Bucky is rude and she calls him out on it. AnywHs, they get drunk, truth or dare (go crZy baby) and LOTS LF dirty talk if u wanna do smut but if u don’t then buck taking care of her while she’s drunk cause she admitted her feelingsPairing:Bucky X Reader (Enhanced)Summary:Since The Avengers gave you a home the only blight has been Bucky Barnes, a ghost from your past that you can’t seem to shake. It makes you hate him. The feeling, it seems, is mutual. But… a simple game reveals that maybe things aren’t quite so simple. (Post Winter Soldier AU)





	Truth Part 6

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings:   
> PTSD, flashbacks, lots of feels, night terrors. 
> 
> A/N:   
> Yeeeeeeaaaaaahhhhh. Here’s a thing. It’s an intense thing. Though intense in a different way than Part 5.

Bucky wakes up drenched in sweat, shaking, throat raw.

“Sargent Barnes?” Jarvis intones in a way Bucky has heard far too many times.

“I’m… I’m good,” he pants not wanting Jarvis to call for back up.

“Sir if you don’t mind me-“

“Not now, Jarvis.” _Jesus, even a dick to the computer aren’t you?_

Jarvis had good reason for concern. This made five days straight, every night since that mission, he woke up screaming. 

He braces his head between his knees, trying to get the tremors to calm. Counting, holding his breath the right way, all the different coping tools his therapist taught him. Sometimes though… you just needed to beat the shit out of something.

He looks at his phone, 2:45 in the morning. It was after midnight when he’d gone to bed so the dream couldn’t have been going on for more than an hour and a half… it felt like a lifetime.

A flash of it plays in his mind: Dancing with Nancy, she was pretty and witty, had real moxie, he’d always liked his women with a little bite. As they danced though she aged in his arms until she was nothing but a wrinkled corpse, a reminder of what he should be now. Then the body morphed into that woman from the facility, skin red and painful to see, the power you so effortless wielded tearing her apart from the inside out. But… It was her eyes… they sparkled like yours. He shudders and bolts for the bathroom to splash cold water on his face.

When he looks in the mirror he can’t help but stare. It always felt like the image was wrong somehow like a double exposure of almost the same exact shot so things were just a little off. On the one hand, he looked so much like the pictures in the museums, only a handful of years older, same dark hair, same eyes. He was even getting grey in his beard at the same spot his pa had. On the other, there was a coldness, something not quite human there he thought. Something broken.

Can’t focus on that. He felt like he was about to snap and that was never good. He pulls on some sweat pants and throws his hair up before heading to the elevator.

“Training ground, please.” The elevator moves. Even the AI wasn’t talking to him. Great.

On the way down Bucky tries to get ahold of himself. His right-hand keeps trembling, other images from the dream popping up as soon as he thinks he’s cleared it from his head. That fucking chair. Jarvis was going to suggest an appointment with his therapist, it probably wasn’t a bad idea, not that he thought it would do any good.

The doors slide open and he trudges out, not focused on anything around him. Because of this when he walks into the gym he’s a little taken back by the image of you sitting on the ground, back against the wall, and the meat locker temperature of the place making goosebumps rise on his skin.

He hadn’t seen you at all since the mission. Really, he hadn’t seen much of anyone. Steve hadn’t mentioned you and he was worried that maybe you had been disciplined on his account. He understood why you lashed out at him, they didn’t. But he knew logically that wasn’t how things worked here.  

You look up, eyes red-rimmed, sweat glistening on your skin. Even in this state it still takes him a second to get his bearings. You were so striking, beautiful…

There’s a part of him that wishes you were happy to see him so it hurts that the look you cast is venomous. Which is stupid, you have every right to hate the sight of him after the way he behaved.

Your tone says it all when you rasp, “Of fucking course. Almost 100 stories and here you are.”

“Nice to see you too.” Even if it was deserved he’s not in the mood. “You done fucking up every punching bag we have,” he gestures to the pile of busted ones in the corner, “or do you plan on leaving some for the other kids to play with?” _Can you not be civil for one second?!_ He inwardly berates himself _._

“Have at it,” you say standing. He notes the way your body shakes. “Not like it’s helping me any.”

As you pass him he grabs your right arm gently, metal flexing around your wrist, “Wait,” he says softly needing to make amends.

White streaks of light pulse up your arm for an instant. “Let go of me, Barnes,” you growl. It feels like a slap.

“So I’m Barnes again?” For a second you shoot daggers at him and he thinks you’re going to snipe back. Instead, you sigh and look at the floor, seeming to wilt as you let the breath out. He releases you.

Slowly you lift your gaze to meet his. Your eyes are glassy, brimming with tears, and so very haunted. “Sorry,” you croak out and his chest constricts. He watches you, your eyes shift suddenly every few seconds as if to track something that’s clearly not there. Damn.

“What’re you seeing?” He asks softly. This was something his therapist had suggested when he first got to the tower and was crashing with Steve. If he was in a flashback talk it out.

You shudder and focus on a point beyond him, “Han… handlers.” These were a very specific breed of Hydra agent trained to keep their assets, in line. They were the ones with their little red books and ‘magic’ words. This could be very bad.

“Are they giving you orders?” A flashback could include auditory hallucinations. His had at the beginning, they almost wiped him, it was horrific. You purse your lips and shake your head no. “That’s good.”

Pressing the heels of your hands to your eyes you let out a low scream and thud to the ground. You bury your face in your knees and for an instant, you pulse, one solid light all over despite your attempts to freeze the power down. _Shit._ This _is_ bad.

“I just want them to go away. I need it to go away. I just want to fucking sleep.” You’re rocking back and forth, a low keening coming from you. He had thought he was about to snap earlier. You were already fraying.

“Y/N,” he crouches in front of you, worried that if he touches you it will set you off and that would be… well a promise, the only one he made you, broken in a little over a week. You could level this building. “Look at me.”

When your eyes meet his, your pupils are blown out, adrenaline pumping hard through your system. He needs to bring you down but he needs to know how far gone you are.

“How long have you been without sleep?”

“I… I… slept with you. I mean…”

He smiles a little, “Yeah. I know what you mean. And since?” Your eyes shift, invisible enemies moving behind him. “Eyes on me,” he says firmly.

It takes effort, he can tell, but you move them to his. “It’s… I…” You pause thinking, “I mean here and there… bits. Not all since…” Another tremor rocks you, you don’t pulse but the tendrils of light on your skin glow bright. “They’re always… there.” Something like a sob comes from you, you cover your mouth reeling in any further expressions. He aches for you.  

“Who’s there?”

You look at him, expression begging for understanding, “All. Of. Them.” He does understand. Your eyes clench shut. The nightmares are everywhere for you so it doesn’t matter if your eyes are open or not. “Her,” you manage, voice cracking.

“Me too,” he whispers. Your eyes open, little sparks there just around the pupil.

Your mouth opens and closes as if you can’t find the words. Finally, “She… she was like me… and I…”

“Saved my dumb ass is what you did.” Bucky offers you a smile. He doesn’t know if this will comfort you but he feels he should say it, “And saved her from more suffering.”

You scoff, “How fucked is it when you can’t tell the difference between murder and kindness…”

He just stares at you. Unable to formulate a suitable response. Because the real answer was that sometimes… there wasn’t a difference.

Suddenly you lean forward and grab his hand, he flinches a bit, worried about your stability. Your gaze is steady for the first time though, “Promise me something… please… please, Bucky…” You’re… begging.

He gives your hand a squeeze, “Anything.” He means this. Anything you asked of him he would do.

“Don’t let me become that again…” His brows knit. “I’d rather be dead than theirs _ever_ again. Please…”

He stares into your eyes, for an instant they’re the woman’s from the facility, dead, dark, the feeling of his fingers closing them forever. He shudders, unsure if he could do the same to you.

“Bucky _promise_ me…” your tone is desperate and your skin begins to lift to that solid glow.

It’s reckless, he knows this, but his body moves of its own volition taking your face gently in his hands. His eyes burn with tears that he won’t let fall and he kisses your lips softly, you press back into the kiss to his surprise, and his heart lifts a touch. He pulls back looking at you, still cradling your face. Your eyes are wide, the dark circles under them making them all the more haunted, screaming for his answer, but you aren’t glowing and that was good.

“I will _never_ let them take you, Y/N… ever. I swear that to you.” He hopes you don’t call him out on his wording. While he means this, has possibly never meant something so fully in his long life, he won’t kill you to keep you from them. Burn every bit of Hydra from the face of the planet? Now that was a different story.

[Reader]

You swallow hard. The sincerity in his voice and his steady stare calms a part of the storm raging in you. In place of the swirl of fear, dread, and panic however you begin to feel how much your whole body hurts.

It’s as though every hair follicle aches, muscles throb from being constantly tense, head pounding from exhaustion, your skin raw on the inside from the power ceaselessly pulsing within you, and that makes you think of her all over again… You feel like you’re going to be sick. Bile rises in your throat, you force it down pulling away.

Reluctantly he lets your face go. You lean to the side, hands flat on the floor, staring at the concrete, and heave a little, trying to ground yourself here and not lose what little dignity you had left at this moment. His right-hand lights gently on your back, the touch sending not unpleasant shivers through you.

“It’s ok,” he says softly, “let it out if you have to. I’m sure as shit not going to judge.” You snort out something like a laugh.

He sighs, “When’s the last time you ate?” All you can manage is a shrug. Yesterday, maybe was the answer. You weren’t trying since nothing stayed down long.

“Ok, look at me, doll.” Doll. He’d called you that the night you were together… you kind of liked it. You do as he asks, turning to him slowly but remaining slumped over.

The fingers of his right-hand stroke the hollow of your cheek. “Is there… someone you… talk to. A-”

“Shrink?” You cut him off.

“Yeah,” he says. You don’t have the energy to explain you’d seen her twice since but here you were. Instead, you just nod. “I assume you’ve,” you nod again. He sits cross-legged, “Doesn’t always do much for me either…” It wasn’t her fault you think. She just hadn’t been equipped to deal with the level of fucked you brought to the table.

He rubs his right hand over his eyes, almost as sunken as your own. That mission did a number on him too, hence why he was here.

“I’m sorry,” you say, righting yourself carefully, to maintain your delicate equilibrium.

“For what?” Bucky’s face knits in confusion.

“You’re dealing with your own shit, you didn’t need me to come and dump mine on you too…” You were sure you could find room to tuck this guilt in with the other menagerie of painful emotions inside you.

“You didn’t dump,” he shakes his head, “I asked. And… like I said… you saved my life… hell, theirs too.” His gaze is intense, “We both know you did even if no one else does. I think that allows for just a little dumping.”

All you can manage, once again, is a shrug. You knew you’d saved him. He’d be dead in the bottom of a crater had you not turned back. A wave of exhaustion hits you and you sway a bit closing your burning eyes. This was sort of like being drunk, you think, only far less fun.

You feel his right-hand slip around your left, “Will you let me return the favor?” Opening your eyes, you stare at him, unsure of his meaning for a second. Oh.

It was true you could go longer than the average human without sleep or much sustenance but you were still for all accounts and purposes a human, you had limits, ones you were coming dangerously close to. 

Part of you wants to ask how he intends to return it, wanting to know if its a kindness you can tolerate. Instead, some other part of you nods yes. Agreeing without consulting your greater whole to let someone in.  


“Come on then,” he stands, extending his left hand. You take it and pull yourself up, relying on its seeming immovability. Still, you tilt precariously, having moved a bit too fast for your body which was now barreling toward a full shut down.

Without word or warning, he slips his right arm behind your knees and lifts your unresisting frame into his arms. You bury your face in his chest, so past caring, breathing in the smell of him, and grasping his shirt with your fist.

“I’ve got you now,” he whispers as he steps into the elevator. “You’re safe.”


End file.
